Past Her Scarlet Letter
by Frost Hobbit
Summary: Original character fic. Sam is kidnapped by a bounty hunter by the name of Marlena, and initially writes her off as someone who cares only for herself. Trapped in a cabin with her for two days, Sam may come to find that she is more than she seems.


**A/N: New fic, new OC. This is probably just going to be a two-chapter thing once it's done, but here's the first part, hope you enjoy it! It's set midway through Season 3. (Why? Because I feel like it.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, but the character of Marlena was created by me.**

"Loosen up, Sammy," Dean said as he sat down next to Sam at the bar and shoved a bottle of beer toward him. "_Relax_, okay? You don't need to be so uptight all the time."

Sam shrugged. "I just don't know why we're wasting time when we should be trying to break your deal."

"Hey, Sam, if you've got any ideas about it right now I'd love to hear them." Dean paused and pretended to try to listen for Sam's answer over the noise of the patrons around them. "You got nothing? Me neither. And it's New Year's Eve, and we just killed two pagan gods. So drink up." Dean popped the top off his beer and took a swig. Sam reluctantly followed suit.

His eyes drifted away from Dean and down the bar to where a young man was sitting. Piercing blue eyes stared at Sam from beneath a black newsboy cap. Sam furrowed his brow – the boy looked away. Dean glanced over his shoulder. "What're you looking at?"

Sam shrugged. "That kid over there's staring at us."

Dean spun around in his chair. "Got a problem, buddy?" The kid shrugged. "No? C'mon, Oliver Twist, nothing to say?"

The boy tightened his lips, raised his eyebrows, then got up and walked away.

"Douchebag," muttered Dean before turning back to Sam.

The bartender approached them and addressed Dean. "Sir, do you drive a 1967 Chevy Impala?"

"Yeah." Dean tensed, looking nervous.

"The headlights were left on," the bartender said.

"What the – " Dean reeled with shock. "How the hell did I leave the headlights on?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno, Dean, other things on your mind?"

"That's so weird," Dean muttered, then got to his feet. "All right, I'll go check on her. Be right back." Sam watched Dean exit the bar, and noticed the boy from before standing next to the door. Sam looked on in confusion as the boy glared at him and began walking through the crowd.

Angrily Sam got to his feet and began following him. He finally caught up with the boy as they reached the hallway that led to the restrooms and seized him by the shoulder. "Hey – what's your _problem_, anyway, kid?"

Sam saw a flash of silver as the boy drew a knife and moved to defend himself, but the hilt of the knife crashed onto his head and Sam collapsed to the floor.

xxx

Sam's eyes slowly opened. His surroundings were fuzzy, but as his eyes slowly adjusted the first thing he noticed the figure standing over him. It was the boy from the bar, still wearing his newsboy cap but wearing skinny jeans instead of cargo pants and had shed the heavy jacket to reveal a baggy forest green t-shirt. "What - ?" Sam groaned, trying to sit up. His hands were cuffed behind a wooden pillar. They appeared to be in the living room of a small cottage, rather homier than Sam would have expected. An Oriental carpet was spread over the hardwood floor and a fire raged in the fireplace. Two lumpy couches were shoved haphazardly into the room, and a small TV sat in the corner. Sam could also see a small kitchen off to the side. "Where are we? What're you – "

His assailant knelt next to him and pressed a knife to his lips. "Shut up." It was the first time he'd heard the kidnapper speak, and the voice was higher than he'd anticipated. The boy finally removed the cap and with a sigh of relief, unpinned a long braid. Sam finally realized that it wasn't a teenage boy, but a young woman who had kidnapped him. Right now he wasn't sure which would have been worse.

"You're a girl?" was the only thing Sam could think of to say.

She snorted. "Such surprise."

"Why did you dress as a man?"

"You try going into a bar as a woman and avoid notice." Abruptly the woman stood and leaned against the back of the couch nearest him, turning her knife over in her hands. "Baggy clothes, hair tucked into a hat, no makeup, and I can fool anybody, especially a bunch of drunk bastards at a bar on New Year's Eve."

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

"None of your business." The woman stuck her knife into her belt and began undoing her braid. Her wavy, light brown hair fell down her back and over her shoulders. She tucked it impatiently behind her ears. Her face was small, with prominent cheekbones and a pointed nose, but her eyes were light blue, something Sam had even noticed at the bar.

He shifted uncomfortably, straining against the handcuffs. "What do you want?" he asked, wondering if he'd have better luck with this question.

"Nothing with you, personally. I'm just in this for the money." She drew her knife again and began running her finger over the blade. "I deliver, my employer pays up."

"Who are you working for?" Sam asked.

"You ask a lot of questions," the woman said shortly. She pointed with her knife to the wall behind Sam. "See the notch in the wall behind you?"

Sam twisted his head around to look at the wall, then nodded.

The woman drew her arm back and threw the knife. It buried itself point-first straight into the notch. "Stop asking questions or it'll be your eye," she said flatly. "Try to run away and it'll be your back. My employer prefers you alive but I still get the cash if you're dead. I've been throwing knives since I was ten. I never miss." She went and retrieved her knife. "Any weapons on you?"

Sam hesitated, glaring at her. She threw the knife again, this time sending it into the post above Sam's head. He was fairly certain it had shaved off a little hair. "Gun in the back of my pants," Sam said through gritted teeth.

Without a word she knelt next to him and retrieved the gun, her fingers brushing his skin. She gave him a slightly apologetic smile as she stood. "I better not find anything else later," she warned.

Sam sighed. "You pulled me out of a bar. What are you expecting to find?"

"You're a hunter, Sam. I expect the worst." She twisted her long hair into a messy bun and tied it in place with a hair tie she'd had around her wrist.

Sam snorted. "So you know that. What else do you know?"

She pointed her finger. "What did I say about asking questions?"

"Your knife's still above my head," Sam said with a smirk.

"You think that's the only knife I have in the house? Cute." However, she crossed to Sam and knelt next to him again. She reached up and with a grunt, pulled her knife out of the pole. "Your name is Sam Winchester. You're a hunter, your parents are both dead, and your only family is your brother Dean, the man who was with you at the bar. You and Dean are ridiculously loyal to each other, so he's probably busting his ass looking for you." She gave him a humorless smile. "Which is why we're deep in the woods in northern Minnesota where neither of us have cell phone service."

Sam laughed. "You think not being able to reach me by cell phone is going to stop Dean?"

"Considering we're three hours away from where you started and, like I said, in the middle of the woods, no, that's not the _only_ thing that's going to stop him." The girl raised her eyebrows and got to her feet. "You should probably try to sleep. We're leaving first thing in the morning." She checked her watch. "And it's midnight. Happy new year." She walked to the couch. "Don't try anything during the night. I'm a light sleeper," she warned.

"Can I just ask one more thing?" Sam said, resigned to an uncomfortable night handcuffed to the post.

"You risk your life, but I suppose." She laid down on the couch, covering herself with a quilt and arranging herself so she could easily see Sam.

"What's your name?" Sam asked. Somehow he felt it would be a comfort to at least know the name of the girl who had kidnapped him.

She switched off the lamp and her eyes glinted, catlike, in the light of the fire. "It's Marlena, if you _must_ know."

xxx

Sam woke the next morning to Marlena smacking him repeatedly in the face. "Wake up. _Wake up_, Sam." When he finally opened his eyes she glared at him. "God, I wouldn't think you'd be able to sleep so damn soundly with your hands cuffed like that."

"It wasn't easy," Sam shot back. "In fact, I'm losing feeling in my fingers. How about you uncuff me?"

"How about no." She gave him another of her infuriating false smiles and stood up. "Change of plans, pal. It snowed last night, and it's still coming down. It's a full-on blizzard out there. No chance in hell we're getting out of here this morning."

"Oh, great going," Sam said sourly. "No backup plan, I suppose?"

"This _is_ the backup plan, smartass," Marlena said shortly. She sighed. "This is maddening. I was planning on having you out of here by noon – "

"And running off with your prize money, right?" Sam said.

"Yes, actually, I was," Marlena answered primly.

Sam leaned his head back against the pole. "Do you know Bela Talbot? You two would get along so well."

"Don't compare me to _that_ scheming skank. I'm twice the thief and twice the person she'll ever be," Marlena snapped. "Though Bela and I do have an understanding, if not a friendship."

"If I thought my opinion of you could lower no more." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Shut up. You don't know anything about me." Marlena walked into the kitchen, pulling her hair down from its bun and then re-fixing it into a ponytail. "I suppose I've got to feed you now." She pulled the fridge open and wrinkled her nose. "I haven't been here in ages. There's not much to eat."

"That's poor planning. You sure you're as good at your job as you think you are?"

Marlena turned and cocked her eyebrow at him. "I don't know. You as good at yours as you think you are?" Sam didn't respond. "Yeah. I didn't think so. How about you save the judging for someone who cares." She fired up the gas stove and dumped a can of soup into a pot. "Chicken soup for breakfast. My favorite."

When the soup was warm enough Marlena poured it into two bowls and warily approached Sam. "I'm going to uncuff one hand," she said. "The other one's getting cuffed to my wrist. Don't even think I'm easing up on you."

"I would never think that," Sam said bitterly. Marlena released his hands for a moment before cuffing his right hand to her left. "I'm right-handed."

"I don't give a damn." Marlena sat cross-legged next to Sam with her bowl in her lap and shoved his toward him. Sam began awkwardly eating his soup with his left hand, to his annoyance. Marlena ate in silence, every so often sending a suspicious glance Sam's way. After several minutes of this Sam finally moved. He spun to the side and seized Marlena by the neck with his left hand. Both bowls of soup went flying as Sam pinned her to the floor, hot soup ending up all over Marlena's jeans and t-shirt. She gasped in pain and choked for air, grabbing at Sam's hand in attempt to loosen his hold.

"Where's the key?" he asked. He gave her a little shake. "For the handcuffs, where's the key?"

"Front pocket," Marlena managed to spit. She attempted an arrogant smile, though she was still gasping for air. "Even if you do get free, where do you think you're going to go? It's freezing out there, Sammy, and this is the only place for miles – " She choked again as Sam's grip tightened. He fished in her pocket for the key and let go of her neck so he could unlock the cuffs. Marlena lay on the floor, coughing and gasping for air as Sam turned his back on her and went for the door. "You'll die out there!" Marlena said hoarsely. "You can't survive. Even if you _had_ a coat and layers of clothes, you're in the middle of fucking northern Minnesota in the winter."

Sam leaned on the front door, trying to shove it open against the pileup of snow outside.

"Would you listen to me?" Marlena snapped, sitting up. "You're going to die, okay? Now which would you rather have happen, freeze to death or a quick, painless death once we get to my employer?"

"I'd rather have neither, thanks," Sam snarled, throwing his full weight against the door. It was halfway open now and snow was blowing inside. Suddenly Marlena was behind him with a knife to his throat.

"Close the door and step back inside," she said.

Furious, Sam slammed the door shut and lifted his hands as he moved back into the room.

"Good boy," she said approvingly with a smile.

"I could kill you," Sam snarled.

"I'd like to see you try." Marlena smirked.

"I just did," Sam pointed out. "Only reason you're alive is because I let go. I could kill you with my bare hands, you could see that."

"But I'm the one with the knife." Smiling, Marlena tapped the knife against her lips and paced around Sam. "You're not a killer, Sammy Winchester, not like some of you hunters."

"And you _are_ a killer, I suppose," Sam said skeptically.

"I do what I have to in order to survive," Marlena said flatly, humor gone from her face. "Surprised?" She gently set the point of her knife against Sam's chest. "With that knowledge, why don't you sit back down against that post."

Sam turned and did what she asked, glaring at her as defiantly as possible. "Good boy," Marlena purred again.

"You disgust me," Sam said flatly, curling his lip.

"Sticks and stones." With a sigh, Marlena once again cuffed his hands behind the post. "If it's any consolation, I'm not that keen on you either. That's all right for me, though. Makes it easier for me to hand you over to my boss."

"Why is that any consolation?" Sam snapped.

Marlena mockingly brushed hair away from his face. "Imagine how difficult this would be if we _liked_ each other."

Sam jerked away from her. "You don't _have_ to do this, you know."

"Aw, Sam." Marlena furrowed her eyebrows almost sympathetically. "I _do_ have to. It's nothing personal. I just do what my boss asks."

"And who's your boss?" Sam asked.

"Someone whose bad side you don't want to be on," Marlena snapped as she stood up. "Do you mind shutting up so I can go change clothes? I'm covered in soup." With that, she turned her back on him and headed up the stairs.

xxx

Marlena came back downstairs dressed in jeans and a white v-neck sweater. Sam leaned his head against the post. "So you do know how to dress like a girl."

"At this point, you're just trying to make me mad." Marlena laughed. "Always a good point to reach."

"How often do you do this?" Sam asked incredulously. "Kidnap someone and drag them up here?"

"As often as I have to, Sam," Marlena said through gritted teeth.

"You're a cold bitch, you know that?"

"You don't know anything about me." Marlena angrily sat down on the couch, crossing both arms and legs. "And I know everything about you, so who here has the authority to judge?"

"Well, _Marlena_," Sam said, putting as much contempt into her name as he could, "we're still stuck in this house for who knows how long. That's all on you. I have a feeling we're going to get to know each other really well."

"I've got an idea. Ignore each other." Marlena seized a magazine and the TV remote from the coffee table and turned the TV on and the volume up.

"Do you mind unchaining me, can't see the screen!" Sam called to her over the sound of the television. Marlena responded by turning up the volume. "Very mature."

"People who try to strangle me don't get privileges like TV," Marlena called back before turning the volume up even higher.

Sam laughed in spite of himself. Marlena shot him a look and went back to watching TV and flipping through the magazine. They passed the time in this way for close to an hour when suddenly the lights flickered and the power went off, plunging them into darkness. Marlena anxiously lowered her magazine. "Oh, great," she muttered, tossing the magazine aside.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"It's the storm, genius, it probably knocked the power lines over." Marlena walked past Sam and knelt next to the vent behind him. "I think the heater's gone off too." She got to her feet and looked around nervously, her bravado slipping for the first time. "I'm going to go down to the basement and check. I'll be right back."

Sam watched her disappear down the stairs and leaned his head back against the pillar, then lifted it as something caught his eye. The key to the handcuffs had slipped from her pocket. With his foot, he pulled it closer to him and managed to get it into his hand. After a few minutes of tinkering with the key, he finally unlocked the cuffs and stifled a sigh of relief as they slipped off his chafed wrists. He waited a moment to make sure Marlena was still safely in the basement before carefully getting to his feet.

Marlena was right about one thing, it was suicide leaving the house, at least without a coat. He had no idea how long Marlena would be, so he hurriedly made his way up to the second floor.

Sam found himself in a short hallway. A bathroom rested on one end, with a master bedroom to his right. There were only two other doors in the hall, and both were closed. He went into the master bedroom and opened the closet to find it empty. Frustrated, he slammed the closet shut and went back into the hall and made his way to the other two doors.

He almost didn't notice the lettering on the doors until he went to open the first one. In peeling gold letters, it read "Marlena." The door next to it had wooden red letters glued to it, spelling out "Madeline." After some deliberation he opened Marlena's door.

Her room was surprisingly feminine, pale pink carpet and white bedspread. Posters were plastered on the walls, hiding what color the paint might have been. Sheer curtains hung over the windows, not quite blocking the view of the snowstorm outside. Sam moved to the closet, still looking for a coat. Unsurprisingly, the closet was almost empty other than a few folded blankets and a black pea coat that would fit Marlena, but not Sam.

More out of curiosity than anything else, he opened the door labeled "Madeline" and went inside. This room looked like it hadn't been used for awhile. The blue carpet was dusty and the patchwork quilt covering the bed looked almost stiff from being folded so long. The only decoration was a framed picture on the bedside table. Sam went and picked it up. In the center of the photo was Marlena, probably in her late teens. She was smiling and her light brown hair was bleached almost blonde, probably by sunlight. On one side of Marlena was a woman who was probably her mother, with the same thin face and pointed nose, same hair and eye color. On her other side was a young girl with darker brown, wavy hair and round cheeks. She didn't look exactly like Marlena, but they were alike enough that Sam could tell they were related.

"_Sam_!" Marlena's furious shout made him jump and drop the photo. Quickly he picked it up and replaced it on the table as he heard Marlena thundering up the stairs. "Sam Winchester, where are – "

Marlena stopped short as she reached the doorway. "What are you doing in here?"

"I – um – " Sam struggled to think of an explanation.

"Get out! Get out!" Marlena waved her arms emphatically and ushered him out of the room. With a glare at him, she stormed into her own room and then emerged carrying the blankets and black pea coat he'd seen in her closet. Without a word, she drew her knife from her belt and pointed to the stairs with it. Feeling that an argument would be unwise, he headed down the stairs with Marlena behind him.

"The heater is out as well as the power," Marlena said abruptly when they reached the living room. She threw the blankets to the floor and shrugged into her coat. "I got some firewood from the basement. Get over here, I'm gonna chain you closer to the fireplace."

"That's not much of an incentive for me to come over there," Sam said, folding his arms.

"Sam." Marlena tilted her face upward and looked askance at the ceiling. "Just come here and sit your ass down, and hopefully the power will come back on soon. I'm in no mood to fight you on this and I would prefer to keep you conscious. Just do it."

In spite of his better judgment, Sam did. With an apologetic yet somehow triumphant smirk, Marlena cuffed his right wrist to a heavy bookshelf next to the fireplace.


End file.
